Family photoVeneralda Morales, who died last week, was a beloved mother figure throughout the Near West Side of Syracuse.

I wrote my column today about Veneralda Morales, better known as "Mama" or "Banana." She was a beloved institution on the Near West Side, a tiny woman in her 80s who pushed a shopping cart. She died last week of injuries suffered almost a year ago in a hit-and-run accident, a death that leaves a shadow of grief across the neighborhood.

In the paper today, I asked for the thoughts or stories of anyone with memories of Veneralda. To get it started, I'll share one of my own. For my family, South Geddes Street is the usual route to just about anyplace in Syracuse, from the interstates to downtown to the mall. So we often saw Veneralda, out and about, as we drove back and forth.

If you saw her, you remember her. If not, suffice it to say that she evoked an almost mystic sense of timelessness. She wore banadanas and brightly colored skirts and dresses, and she had an intense and joyous face. She also spoke no English, although her friends say it didn't matter: When she said something, you still knew what she meant.

I can vouch for that. Once, on a snowy day, we were driving along South Geddes when we saw Veneralda, struggling to get across a snowbank. We stopped the van and I got out and she grabbed my arm in a very strong grip, and together we navigated through the snow. On the other side, in an incredibly intense way, she grabbed both my arms, looked up into my face, and erupted in a stream of passionate Spanish.

She had deep and unbelieveably soulful eyes. And while I had no clue about what she was saying, I knew what she was saying. In the end I nodded to her and she nodded back, as if to say to one another: Exactly.